7 Day Stretch
by The Blog of John H. Watson MD
Summary: Hello. My name is John Watson, MD of the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers. This is my blog but nothing happens to me.
1. Entry 1

It's been 3 years. 3 years since the fall. 3 years since I've seen my best friend.

Everyday it just gets worse and worse. Mary is here and cheers me up but when she goes to work, I don't know. Something happens. I lose it.

When she's gone, I really feel alone. Just like I did when it-when it first happened.

Maybe...just maybe I'll be happy again. I don't know. If Mary stops going to work I guess we could find out. I wouldn't do that to her though. Or to me.

Some days I don't know why she's with me. I'm moody, arrogant and a pompous buffoon. Like Sherlock.

Don't you see what's going on? I'm becoming him. I'm now a cross between the two of us.

Shon.

No.

Johnlock.

At least it's not my real name.

I wish I could have said something more personal instead of, "no, don't."

That's the last thing he heard me say. God, that's horrible. I'm the last person he talked to though. I don't know if that makes me happy or sad.

Hold on, someone's at the door...


	2. Entry 2

It was Greg. Greg was ringing me up to see if I could come smooth some things out on a case he had been working on for a few hours. I kind of looked at him stupidly before nodding and tagged along in the front of the cop car.

What was I going to do there? Not only have I not seen him in months (unless you count on the telly or in the newspaper), I don't know what I could possibly do to contribute.

Anyway, there we were riding in the car in some sort of awkward silence, going about 22 miles away from Baker St to some crime scene. We made idle chitchat trying to pass the time.

When we finally got there, he pulled me over to the side and said, "Now look John. I only called you here because you were undoubtedly the closest thing to Sherlock," I looked away at his name, "and this is the sort of case he would be over the moon over. You must have some idea how he would try and do this."

"I don't know if I do Greg."

He squeezed my shoulder and started walking away. I quickly followed.

We got up to the building and went to the 8th floor via staircase. He made me put on a blue suit and I mentally giggled thinking of the first time I went on a case.

I sighed, zipping up my suit and Greg opened the door for me.

The first thing I noticed when I walked in was a dead man laying on the floor. He had black hair, very tan skin and was wearing a tweed suit with his shirt wide open.

I glanced at Greg before I walked over to the body.

I kneeled by his face: two scratch marks on his left cheek and one big gash on his forehead.

I looked down to his tie: blood.

And finally, his torn open shirt: multiple scratch marks on his chest and one big gash right near his collarbone.

Obviously he had got in a fight with someone who had a blunt object. They hit him in the collarbone, trying to just wound him (because the gash on his collarbone is older than the one on his forehead). He staggered to the ground and scratched his chest and face on the carpet. The man who hit him panicked and bent down near his face to check his breathing. The man on the ground jerked and, panicking again, the other man hit him on the forehead.

I got tired of thinking of him as 'man' so I looked in his wallet, supplied by Greg, and found out his name was Jeffery Pickett. He was 26 and was from Sussex. He looked familiar but I couldn't quite place it.

I stood up and looked around the room. I couldn't quite place anything of importance to what had happened (or what I thought had happened) until I got to the office.

It was locked but I forced it open.

It was a mess. There was a pipe broken (blunt object used obviously), papers everywhere but most notably, writing on the wall. And not just any writing;

7 DAYS UNTIL THE END

I stared at it for a moment. 7 days until the end? The end of what? What the bloody hell are they implying?

My heart started racing as I turned around to see Greg standing in the doorway looking at it with his mouth open. He looked at me and I took the opportunity to tell him all that I knew, including:

"I'm not him, Greg. I'm not as fast or nearly as brilliant. I don't know what I possibly did today that contributed."

I nodded and walked out. Before I got to the door, he said:

"But will you take the case Dr. Watson?"


	3. Entry 3

I stopped in the doorway and turned around.

He sighed, "I'm not asking you to be him John, I would never...but I could use your help."

I gulped before nodding then quickly turned on my heel and went out.

I'll start tomorrow. I need to talk to Mary about this.

I stopped.

Mary.

God, I left without a note or a call of even a text.

I ran to the nearest busiest street and tried to hail down a cab. Having no luck, I decided to start walking. I tried calling her but she didn't answer.

After about a couple blocks, I had to stop to take a breather. The least I could have done was take a walk these past couple months.

As I mentally kicked myself, I looked up and a shiny black car was waiting.

Mycroft.

I sighed over dramatically and got into the car quite reluctantly.

No Anthea. Strange.

As the car got further and further out of the city, I started to get a bit worried. Was this really Mycroft? There's no reason for him to take me out of his way anymore.

I started drumming my hand on my knee. What if this wasn't Mycroft? What if I just reluctantly got into the car of the people who were going to kill me?

After about 10 more minutes of complete and utter silence and paranoia, the car stopped and the door was opened; the sunshine was coming through so hard, I had to block it out to even think straight.

I got out and saw a small little cottage. Glancing at the driver who opened my door, I walked quickly to the small doorway.

If I'm going to die I might as well get it over with.


	4. Entry 4

I opened the door and to my utter relief it was Mycroft.

"Hello John. How are you?"

"You know you don't have to bring me out of the way anymore."

He smirked.

"I hear you're engaged to be married. Congratulations."

"Yes, thank you."

He gestured to the chair opposite him.

"I also hear you've taken up a case." he said as he looked at his pocket watch.

I stared at him.

"That didn't even happen half an hour ago, how could you possibly know that?"

He smirked again.

"Don't underestimate me Dr. Watson."

"Right... so what exactly do you need because I'd like to go home."

He leaned to the side to get a blue folder.

"I need a little bit of help myself. There's been a robbery at our facility and we need to figure out who it was."

"Have you checked the cameras?"

He frowned, "Yes, but you see, the cameras were on the whole time and nothing happened."

I cocked my head to the side.

"No one went in and no one came out. There was no rut in our camera. But somehow, someone stole something very important to is."

"And what did they steal?"

"I'd tell you but I'd have to kill you."

I chocked back a laugh but quickly got serious again.

"So will you take the case Dr. Watson?"

"Is everyone forgetting who I am?" I yelled as I stood up, "I'm not him, I'm not Sherlock Holmes. But somehow you and Lestrade have completely forgotten that because you both have just given me cases that I have no idea if I can even begin to solve!"

I stopped to take a breath.

"And further more, I don't know if I want to get involved. Sherlock was always solving these cases and even though he wouldn't admit it, he was always running from people who wanted him dead and I don't know if I want that to be me."

He stared at me before standing up himself.

"I'll see you on Monday then, I suppose."

"Who said I was taking the case?"

He sighed, "You just said Sherlock's name in the last 3 minutes more then you have for the past 3 years."

He shook my hand and walked away swinging his umbrella.


	5. Entry 5

I stood dumbstruck in the doorway before I came back to my senses.

Mary.

I ran out the door and into the car. The driver seemed to be in no rush, to my dismay, as we slowly made our way back to Baker St.

When we finally got there, I ran up to the door, opened it, and had barely closed when I was already up the stairs.

Mary was sitting on the couch watching the telly. She turned her head and smiled.

"Oh, you're back!"

I looked at her confused and she stifled back a laugh.

"You're not mad...?"

"No, Mycroft phoned me before I could." She said as she winked.

I smiled and kissed her on her cheek.

I made dinner that night (we've been switching who does and who doesn't) as a sort of, 'sorry I went and took on two cases without telling you where I was.' It was noodles with a side of bread and jam.

After dinner we watched a movie then went upstairs to go to bed. Well she did, I went to the back room (formerly erm Sherlock's room) and went to close the window that I saw was open.

I closed it and turned towards the door. I sighed as I began to walk out but saw something fluttering in the air vent. I went over to get it out.

I slowly opened it and it read:

WELCOME DR. WATSON

7 DAYS


End file.
